Hard To Get By Just Upon A Smile
by itssupernaturall
Summary: dean's boyfriend is a meanie and castiel notices and stuff happenes


well this is my first supernatural fanfic ever and i hope y'all like it idk it has dean and cas and i love dean and cas and if you do too read this story adn then review it because reviews make me happy and they make sure i will not throw you into a volcano (my tumblr is deaniesexanie gimme a follow)

* * *

**June**

Castiel Novak saw the bruises on Dean Winchester's face. Dean knew it. Dean could tell. No one stared at someone else with that expression Castiel was sporting unless they saw under the cheap makeup that you had black and blue spots on your face, unless they saw the gashes on your lips through the "neutral" (fuck drugstores) colored lipstick. It was an expression of confusion mixed with a whole lot of shock and sympathy and pity. It could also be considered a "thank God I'm not that kid" expression.

Dean wanted to run over to Castiel and threaten him into keeping his mouth shut. It was obvious Dean didn't fall out of his bed, like Alastair had told Dean to say if anyone happened to notice. Which, Alastair had also made sure to tell Dean, no one should be able to notice the bruises and cuts under the makeup. Dean was in English with Castiel and knew the kid was smart, smart enough to take one glance at the horridly applied make-up on Dean's face and figure it out. And, of course, if Castiel figured it out and told someone, real shit would hit the wall. People talked.

Dean closed his eyes for a brief second, ignoring the pulsing pain in his right cheek, the impossible to ignore burning on his bottom lip. Dean made a promise to himself then and there – standing on a street corner out of San Diego Miramar College with Castiel Novak watching him like a hawk – that Alastair would never be allowed to do this again.

When Dean opened his eyes, Castiel was gone. Worried and half-furious (at himself), Dean ran down the street, hoping to see Castiel. Which, of course, wasn't the case.

Castiel was gone, with the knowledge that Dean Winchester was obviously beat to a fucking pulp by someone.

_Fuck me, _Dean growls to himself, slapping the brick wall next to an Italian restaurant. Dean knew Alastair would hurt Dean much, much worse if word got around someone was throwing punches at Dean Winchester.

**August**

"Am I not allowed to run to the fucking store to buy a fucking shirt?" Dean Winchester cursed at his boyfriend. Dean felt awkward standing in the doorway to Alastair's apartment carrying a plastic bag with a crumpled t-shirt, but, of course, the awkwardness he felt was nothing compared to the rage boiling through his veins (mixed with fear, as per usual around Alastair).

"How was I supposed to know where the fuck you went?" Alastair spats back at Dean, slamming his coffee mug harshly onto their kitchen table.

"Where did you think I'd gone?" Dean is now exasperated along with the anger and fear and awkwardness.

"I thought you'd left me or something," Alastair admits after a moment, looking at the floor as the words escape his lips. "For good."

Dean, still mad and still scared, drops the plastic bag and hesitantly approaches his boyfriend, taking the other man's hands, forcing a smile. Dean can get by just upon a smile. A smile, a few reassurances to Alastair that Dean would never leave him, that Dean loves Alastair despite the times they've fought, and then everything is normal again. And then, after that, Alastair roughly drops Dean's hands and demands Dean picks his bag up and put it somewhere Alastair can't see it.

_Yes, _Dean thinks with a sarcastic roll of his eyes, _everything is normal again._

As Dean picks the bag up, Dean thinks, for the first time, that he just might be able to get away from Alastair. Of course, Dean had considered would it would be like if he could leave Alastair in the past, without hope, though. This time was different, though, because this time Alastair had had been the one admitting it was possible, admitting he thought Dean capable of such a task.

That was the first time Dean felt something like a slimmer of hope running it's course through Dean.

**November**

Castiel Novak was staring at Dean again. The kid was looking through the makeup on Dean's face at the fresh bruises on his face. The kid was looking at the scarf on Dean's neck, knowing there wasn't hickies under it, but more bruises and cuts. (Or, of course, the kid could be wondering why the hell a man like Dean Winchester was wearing a _scarf.)_ This time, the kid looked scared, and his expression lacked the sympathy or pity he sporting the last time he was staring Dean down like this.

**December**

It was the first Thursday of December and Castiel Novak was staring Dean down again. Unlike the previous times this has happened, Castiel is staring at Dean in English class, so there isn't anywhere for the kid to run. Which was good, because Dean could finally push the kid against a wall and yell at him until he promises not to tell a soul about the bruises. Honestly, Dean was shocked that it'd been six months since the first time this happened and he still wasn't hearing gossip about himself.

When class is over, Dean wants to stop Castiel to confront him, but the kid pushes his way into the sea of people and Dean looses him. Dean looks for the kid frantically, angrily shoving through the mass of kids, but to no luck. Castiel is gone. Again.

**February**

Dean walks into his English class ten minutes late. The professor is out of the room as per usual, so Dean makes his way to his seat in the back of the room without any trouble.

No trouble from anyone, except Castiel Novak, who is squinting his eyes slightly as he stares at Dean. Dean took extra time to cover the bruises on his face this morning; the reason he was late. Alastair had been furious with Dean last night due to the fact Dean had got drunk at work and was vomiting everywhere. Dean wasn't allowed to drink. It made Dean act like an asshole, according to Dean's _loving _boyfriend. When Dean had stumbled through the door last night with vomit on his shirt and alcohol on his breath, Alastair beat Dean worse than he'd ever beat Dean before. He kicked Dean's stomach until he puked again. He punched Dean until Dean choked on his blood. He "accidently" stepped on Dean's legs as he made his way to the bathroom to wash his hands of his boyfriend's blood.

Just thinking about what Alastair had done, Dean shivers. His stomach is still aching along with his legs, but that is nothing compared to the tortuous burn in his cheeks, on his jaw, his nose.

Stealing another glance at Castiel, he finds the kid is still squinting at him. It creeps Dean out.

**March**

"Aren't you going to school?" Alastair asks Dean, his tone cruel and mocking. Dean knew Alastair didn't approve of Dean going to college; it was wasting too much of their money. (Even though Dean had already been in college when the two of them met.)

"I don't feel like it," Dean mutters into the sheets. "My throat hurts. I think it's allergies."

"So?" Alastair asks, and Dean can _hear _him rolling his eyes. "Everyone has allergies this time of year."

"I don't feel good," Dean complains.

"Fucking idiot," Alastair whispers under his breath, though he makes sure it's loud enough for Dean to hear. Dean ignores him, pulling the sheets over his head and trying to fall back asleep. "Don't you dare ignore me," Alastair threatens not a minute later, pulling the sheets from the bed.

"Fuck you," Dean growls, sitting up in the bed. "I'm not an idiot," Dean adds defensively, whispering.

Alastair laughs once. It's a sick, twisted sound. "Yes, you are. You told me you barely passed high school. You told me your younger brother tutored you. You told me you held off on college because you thought you were too stupid. I listen to you, Deanie, don't you forget that. I know that you think you're dumb." When Alastair talks, the words are always so _mocking, _so condescending.

The words, the tone, all of it makes tears threaten to spill from Dean's eyes. Dean wants to stop them, so, _so _badly, but they seem to be set on betraying Dean and making him look weak.

"A good boyfriend would tell me I'm not dumb, no matter what I say," Dean snaps, regretting the words the second they pass his lips.

Dean does not regret the words because they are cruel, no, Alastair deserves worse than a few sharp words. Dean regrets the words because Alastair smirks before crossing the room and throwing a hard punch at Dean, landing square on Dean's jaw. Dean moans in pain, gritting his teeth to prevent himself from making a noise. Alastair doesn't like it when Dean fights back. Dean's boyfriend punches Dean again, again, again. Tears are making their way down Dean's face, which only brings laughter from Dean's abuser. Dean's abuser, Dean's boyfriend, they are one in the same. Alastair does not stop with the punches until Dean takes back what he says, apologizing profusely, promising he didn't means the words.

As Alastair stalks out of the room, leaving Dean to his blood and tears, the man taunts, "Go ahead and ditch school. Only the smart kids show up all the time, anyways."

**April**

_I'm so, so very sorry. I know I'm horrible. I knew back in June something was wrong. Of course, me being the awkward, anti-social freak that I am, ignored it and pretended that, if I ignored the problem, it'd go away. I am aware I am an idiot for doing so, and I sincerely apologize for that._

_ At first, I thought it'd just been a fight or something, no big deal. But, after summer, when I noticed the bruises every class, I knew something was wrong. When you started wearing scarves is when I grew extremely concerned. I mean, I had known from the beginning that something was off, but I never considered it was this bad. I mean, at first I didn't know who was doing this to you. I wondered that until I heard some girls talking about you, about your parents who are both dead (I apologize deeply for that, too), about your brother at Stanford, about how you lived with your boyfriend. I knew it was none of my business, but I wondered if your boyfriend was the cause of the bruises._

_ This is… awkward. I am so sorry if I am wrong about this whole thing. I just… if you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me. I'm not very good at talking, but I am a good listener. _

_ No one deserves whatever you're going through, Dean Winchester. You are very smart, Dean. I know that because whenever Professor Johns calls on you, your answers are the most accurate and intriguing. Even though I am not personally acquainted with you, I know that you do not deserve this. _

_ Castiel Novak (the kid who sits five desks to your right and two rows in front of you)_

Dean reads the note that was on his desk when he arrived in the classroom and sees red. Dean squeezes the paper in his hand, wishing it was something that would crush into small pieces. What fucking _right _did Castiel have to write this? It wasn't his business. It wasn't anyone's business.

Sure, Dean wanted to get away from Alastair, leave Alastair, but, he wanted to do that _on his own. _Dean didn't need saving.

Castiel is sitting in his desk, two rows ahead of Dean and five seats to the right. Dean had, of course, already knew where the kid sat, and Dean may've felt bad for the kid assuming Dean didn't know who he was if Dean wasn't so pissed. Dean stares at Castiel, still seeing red. Dean stalks over to the kid, slamming the note on the kid's desk, and, without giving the kid enough time to say whatever apology he was going to offer, Dean spats at Castiel:

"Who the fuck do you think you are? These bruises you stare at? I race on motorcycles, okay? It's a dangerous sport. I fall off a lot, I get hurt a lot. My boyfriend, Alastair, would never do something like this, and you're a fucking idiot for thinking he would." Dean leans in close to Castiel, who looks scared as fuck, but Dean ignores that and whispers in his face, "Fuck off. No one asked you to play the hero. I don't need a hero. You're just jealous of me, you just wanna fuck me. Well, sorry, I'm not no fag, okay? Alastair is the only guy I'll ever fuck, and that's because I love him."

Dean ignores the voice telling him to stop before he says something he'll regret. He keeps going for another minute, demanding Castiel back the fuck off and never speak to Dean again, never look at Dean again.

"Do you understand me?" Dean asks him, teeth ground, rage flaring in his eyes; Dean looked like a mad-man in that moment.

Castiel continues to stare at him, and, if Dean gave didn't want to rip this kid's head off, he'd notice the tears filling Castiel's eyes, the terrible look of agonizing pain in the kid's piercing blue eyes.

"Do you?" This time Dean almost shots the question.

"Y-Yes," Castiel chokes out, his voice trembling. Satisfied with the answer, Dean heads back to his seat, taking the note with him.

English class passed without Castiel glancing at Dean once. Dean would know: he stared at the kid the whole time.

After rereading the note the tenth time, Dean started to feel guilt rise in his chest, in his stomach. Dean overreacted so much. So, so much. Any chances that Castiel would want to help Dean out were undeniably gone. Hell, the chance Castiel would even ever stare at Dean in class to check on his bruises were gone. Fuck that, any chance that Castiel would ever _look _at Dean were gone.

Not that Dean was supposed to care; Dean and Castiel weren't even friends. Still, friend or not, Dean had had no rights to say the things he'd said to Castiel. First of all, Dean, who had a grand total of zero friends on the while campus, was not someone to be jealous of. The chances Castiel felt anything other than pity towards Dean was ridiculous. Second, Dean had no idea if Castiel was into guys or girls, so guilt churned sharply in Dean's stomach when he remembered the comment Dean had made about Castiel wanting to fuck Dean. That was out-of-line. Everything Dean has said was out-of-line. Third, Dean hadn't touched his motorcycle since he started dating Alastair a year ago; Alastair felt the sport was too dangerous.

A part of Dean wanted to find Castiel and apologize; Dean assumed the kid was still on the campus. Another part, the idiotic part, wanted to continue acting like an asshole to Castiel because Dean still didn't need saving.

_Yes you do, _Dean muttered to himself, but slapping the thought away quickly, too afraid to even think something like that. Dean was fine. Sure, Dean hated when Alastair hit him, how Alastair prohibited Dean from doing some of the things he loved. Sure, a part of Dean desperately wanted to leave Alastair. But, Dean _didn't need saving. _Dean could do this on his own, he had to. It was his problem. It wasn't _Castiel Novak_'s problem, for crying out loud.

The next day in English class, Professor Johns announces that Castiel Novak has transferred classes.


End file.
